Men Of Redemption: Chain on Fire
by Wistful-Eyes
Summary: S.J. Kidd's Himura Kiyoshi. This is the story of Kenshin's father, a samurai turned monk. In both father and son, there is power, independence, and redemption shining strongly in their violet eyes.


Done for the OC Exchange – Using the OC Kiyoshi, by S.J. Kidd.

* * *

Chain on Fire

Samurai were a proud race. But for all their pride, they were servants- servants who served in the way of killing.

Himura Kiyoshi was born into such a family; he was the oldest son, his father's and grandfather's pride. He learned quickly and had a good temperament. At the age of eight, he could easily beat the other ten year old swordsmen-in-training.

By the age of twelve, he loved the sword. He grew tall for his age- his skin was dark, the muscles in his arms obvious. It was when he was twelve, he witnessed his lord put two men to death. It was then, that a crack shattered its way into his beliefs- the first crack in his own pride to be samurai.

"This man," said Toruga-sama, turning on his heels, "has been caught raiding my rice pantry. The pantry that contains the rice that is _your_ food."

A few of the samurai grinned darkly and shifted, but not Kiyoshi and his family. His father stood straight and tall beside him, and Kiyoshi did the same, but his jaw was clenched tight.

Toruga-sama walked over to the next man, bound beside the thief. The next man's eyes were wide and watering, but he stared straight ahead, not looking into his Lord's eyes.

"Ketsu… a servant of mine. Discovered _helping_ that worthless bandit over there." Toruga-sama's eyes glanced once more at the cowering thief. The man's clothes were dully colored and threadbare. Toruga-sama had a look as if he wanted to kick the thief, but would not do it because of his filth.

"These crimes… are punishable by death. A traitor and a bandit. They will be executed here and now."

"Please, Lord!" the thief let out a sudden, shuddering gasp. "You have so much food, so much-! The ones outside of your gates are in need… show mercy!"

Toruga-sama gave a jerk of his head to the captain of his samurai bodyguards, Kiyoshi's father. Leaving Kiyoshi's side, the Himura knelt down by the thief, one hand on his sword handle. Toruga-sama spoke again.

"I suppose your family is one of the ones in need. Because they put you up to this, foolish man, they can join you in the shadow realm."

The wretched man locked his lips shut, trembling.

"What is your name?" Kiyoshi's father asked.

The man would not speak. He shuddered so hard it was sickeningly comical, as Kiyoshi's father drew his blade.

Kiyoshi's lips moved silently. _Father. _He found himself thinking, _Don't._

It was a clean stroke, familiar. A movement Kiyoshi had seen hundreds of thousands of times. Only now, there was a great spurt of blood, the sound of a thud as the head hit the ground and rolled, the sprawled body on the dirt, twitching.

Kiyoshi knew blood. He knew injury. And now he knew death, had witnessed it and its finality. He didn't turn away as Ketsu was beheaded. Ketsu, a man he knew and recognized, who had spoken words with many a time as he grew up. He said nothing; he couldn't say anything to spare him. Tight-lipped, Kiyoshi watched his father bring death to a man for a second time in the same minute: using the same, beautifully graceful stroke.

Kiyoshi loved his father. He loved his brothers, his grandfathers, his uncle. He served them well, dutifully, along with his Lord Toruga. But from that time when he was twelve, when he didn't speak of the scenes that flashed behind his eyes, they manifested into something hard, petrified wood. Yet still, his sword arm moved.

He killed his first man at fourteen and a half, while he had been assigned guard duty to Toruga-sama's nephew, who was about to be promised 1/5 of Toruga's land. A mediocre assassin, making a suicidal dash into the procession line, his dagger out; Kiyoshi struck accordingly. Afterwards, he thought only briefly back to the killing of Ketsu and the thief. He recognized the difference between those situations, and he had no qualms.

That's what he told himself.

_"We are proud of you. You honor our family. You serve your Lord well. You are steadfast and dedicated to your duty."_

He could not explain why he thought of those praises more pathetic each time he heard them. He could not explain why he felt so at ease and happy when with the people from outside; the commoners, the peasants at the market place. He met a girl, Meiko, during one of his excursions. She talked so jovially it was infectious, but she was skinny and had a slightly mussed appearance.

"What's wrong, Kiyoshi? Like what you see?"

He blinked, startled. The muscular teenager blushed slightly. He had been staring at Meiko's stomach, noticing how the cloth hung loose over it; her stomach must have been impossibly concave.

"Don't be foolish, Meiko," Kiyoshi growled. The corner of his mouth threatened to twitch upwards.

"Yeah, that's right," she drawled in an exaggerated manner. She patted her stomach. "Anyway, no one's going to get anything unless I say so. I'd rather go live in the forests and die than resort to prostitution."

"Just work harder, and you'll get more food," Kiyoshi offered.

"I'm working as hard as I can. And there isn't much work available for girls like me. You're very lucky, with your swords and living with that Daimyo. I heard you get reaaally large meals!"

"They're adequate."

She gave him her evil eye. He frowned at her and relented, expanding on his answer. "A man doesn't go hungry inside. If you become famished after a hard training session, they'll still have enough food to fill you up. Unless you're very huge," he added, thinking of one very large samurai he knew. Meiko laughed, and Kiyoshi smiled at her.

He was surprised to see her adopt a more serious, sad look.

"This is a hell hole, Kiyoshi. We're starving out here. Toruga will eventually have a rebellion on his hands if he doesn't do something."

"Don't talk that way," Kiyoshi frowned. "He is still my Lord."

"Yes, he's your master." She agreed. Then she changed the subject. She knew better than to press a samurai on loyalty. She did not know how high ranking Kiyoshi was amongst Toruga's bodyguards, and despite his gentle manner, samurai could still easily kill when provoked…

Kiyoshi, his perception finely honed, understood her choice not to pursue the subject. After that, he tried to save food from his meals to give to her, even though such actions were punishable. It continued like so, but for some reason as Meiko grew healthier with each given meal, she became bitterer until Kiyoshi could barely remember the carefree attitude that had attracted him to talk to her the first time they met. One day, she was not at their usual meeting spot. During his free time, Kiyoshi looked for her in vain. A week and a half later, he got an actual answer from Meiko's former employer.

"She ran off, I hope. Otherwise she's been silenced." The man said, his eyes carefully looking anywhere but Kiyoshi's face.

"Why?" Kiyioshi pressed, shocked. If she had been silenced, it must have been by Toruga-sama's orders, or one of his captains.

The old man hesitated. "Young man… I don't believe Meiko ever told you, but she had been spreading word to revolt… secretly, she was very, incredibly unsatisfied with her life. She could have started off with very big dreams… people become bitter that way."

"She should have waited… Toruga-sama would have eventually helped the poor. Meiko said it herself; he would have to do it, lest a rebellion occurred…"

"Yes, sir," the old man said politely, and showed him out the door. Kiyoshi stood motionless out on the street. It had happened again; with Meiko, the old man, and anyone else with whom the subject of Toruga had appeared. They acted as if they knew something he didn't; as if they pitied him for his ignorance, but hid it very well…

The revelation ate at him for weeks. His father hit him for staring out at nothing, when he was absorbed with it. He hit him again when Kiyoshi snapped and angrily questioned him and his brothers if any of them had been ordered to kill a peasant girl. Not any of them said they had done it. After time, Meiko's disappearance joined the memory of the deaths of Ketsu and the thief into the back of his head, a hovering at the edge of his psyche, wearing and tearing over the years.

When Himura Kiyoshi was twenty-two, the rebellion occurred. The violet-eyed man was by then recognized as the best samurai under Toruga, who had begun holding matches and watching Kiyoshi spar against his fellow swordsmen. The Daimyo's face had darkened, turning an angry red when he heard of the extent of damage done by the rebelling peasants, but after giving orders, he got himself under control and gave Kiyoshi a smile.

"My best warrior. I have been wondering… waiting for the time I would finally use you."

Kiyoshi's responding bow was perfect, but his mind was revolted. His tongue was glued to the top of his mouth. He could not speak, but inside there was a whirlwind of sudden resentment of injustice.

He dreaded the day of battle. It came in the morning, with gray mist floating around them, but not severely blocking their eyesight. Kiyoshi stood in the fog, fighting off small shivers, when his father came for him.

"Toruga-sama wants you, Kiyoshi," his father told him. "Meet him at the front."

Kiyoshi obeyed his father, and took his place by Toruga's side. The older man stood stiffly, eyes sweeping the landscape. Kiyoshi could spot the figures of the peasants. Their shadowy figures were moving slowly, holding spears and homemade weapons. He swept his eyes away from them and bowed to his master.

"Toruga-sama."

"Aaah, Kiyoshi," the Lord said, smiling, his eyes excited. "We will move out, soon, and meet them quickly. That incredible god-like speed of yours will be put to use; I expect this battle to end in a few hours or so. I want it over very quickly."

"Toruga-sama," Kiyoshi murmured. There were goosebumps on his skin from the cold, but his deep voice finally spoke steadily and resolutely. "May I suggest a way to avoid the battle altogether?"

"What's that?" Toruga asked skeptically. "My advisors have already planned; you believe you have another alternative we have not touched upon?"

"My Lord-" saying that title strangely strengthened Kiyoshi's resolve, and he looked into his master's eyes, voicing what had been on his mind and what he had been longing to say ever since Meiko's disappearance. "The peasants are starving, which was why they finally decided to fight. If we may offer a treaty and then offer them food from our stores, eventually we may be able to win their trust again, and they shall go back to work."

"Why would we care to go that far?" Toruga said scornfully.

"If we kill them, there will be no one left to work, whether farming or other crafts-"

"There are plenty of wretches to take their place! Are you suggesting I deal with dogs?"

"THEY ARE PEOPLE," Kiyoshi roared suddenly. He stood tall, fists clenched, muscles bulging; his sword was obvious, hanging off his belt. Toruga shrunk back in instinctive fear, but he quickly recovered.

"KNEEL!" Toruga yelled back. Kiyoshi panted heavily from his sudden outburst, and then dropped down to his knees before he could stop himself. Once he felt his knees touch the cold, hard, earth, he felt a sudden swell of self-hate.

_This is what Meiko was talking about. Meiko, we are both wretched. I am more mindless than you, you who helped kindle fires of rebellion. _

Meanwhile, Toruga ranted on. "I have clothed you and your family, given you food, and this is how you repay me? Insubordination on the very day of battle! You fool! I order you now to go out there and kill those vermin out there! They dare think to challenge me? And now _you_, Himura! Get up! Go, now!"

"You have plenty of food," Kiyoshi said between gritted teeth. "Spare some and be merciful."

There was a clink as a hand went to a sword. Kiyoshi looked up. It was his father.

His father, who was staring down at him as if he couldn't believe his eyes. Shock, anger, and shame swirled in those irises.

"Get up, Kiyoshi." Said he, captain of Toruga's guard.

"No, Father."

There was a deadly hush. Under these circumstances, he should not have addressed him as "father", but as "captain". Kiyoshi's father breathed heavily and readjusted his grip on his sword handle, angry at Kiyoshi for speaking their association at such a time.

"Get up, samurai, or you will be executed for treason." Toruga spoke.

"So be it." Kiyoshi murmured. Everyone shifted around him. Many of the men were looking at Kiyoshi as if he had suddenly grown another head. This was a complete stranger they were circling, not the obedient, loyal Kiyoshi they knew.

Suddenly, Kiyoshi's father roared and drew his sword. He swung hard-

-to have it blocked by the iron force of his son. He had been blocked so many times before as they sparred- it had been a source of pride, but now Kiyoshi's father glared in hatred at his opponent.

"I will not die now." Kiyoshi said. "I will stop you first." His eyes were narrowed at Toruga, indicating him. It may have been the discoloring of the mist, but suddenly his eyes looked like molten gold.

"Kill him!" Toruga ordered.

In their shocked states, the samurai still immediately obeyed. Kiyoshi felt sickening pity and disgust for them all as he fought them, men he had grown up with, eaten with. He came to suddenly face his brother, who's eyes were wide with disbelief, but who's arms still swung automatically. Kiyoshi parried, and swung at him with deliberate slowness; his brother dodged, backed away.

"I WILL NOT SERVE!" Kiyoshi roared, insane with a finally realized desire for justice and independence. Energy, angry energy, swirled around him. "I AM MY OWN MAN, WITH MY OWN SENSE OF JUSTICE!"

It was said later, he fought like the devil. But just as a pack of ravenous rats could overcome a dog, there were too many samurai against him. Wounded and bleeding in several places, Kiyoshi broke away from the surge and ran off into the mist, the will to survive pushing him hard. He ran away, far, far away. He left the peasants to their revolt, forgetting them. When he woke up in an infirmary miles away and heard the news of the massacre, the nurses ran. His eyes change color, they said. They change to fire with his anger.

Kiyoshi grew older, and alone.

He traveled around the countryside, cursing himself. He saw the image of his father, executing Ketsu and the man who had tried to steal rice for his starving family. He heard Meiko's voice change and saw her dancing eyes slowly rust. He heard his own voice call with the others:_ Toruga-sama! Toruga-sama! Toruga-sama!_ He saw the shock in his former fellows' eyes as they turned on him. The hate and confusion in his father's.

_I should have spoken sooner. Everything that I sensed was wrong, I sent to the back of my mind, pushing it far away… that is why I am what I am now. Disguised, homeless. The news of my family wanting to kill me is not surprising. How I must have surprised and shocked them all, saying such things all of the sudden; it is no wonder father hates me. I am like a demon to him._

He traveled far, to Kyoto. He met Amon, a dark haired and stern youth. Kiyoshi had attracted the attention of him. A penniless, muscular samurai, all by his lonesome; a man with gentle, polite speech, and such eyes…

They became friends, and enjoyed each other's company, each one intriguing the other greatly. They both realized that behind the friendly facade there was a true warrior underneath. They scrutinized and analyzed each other, both knowing that the other knew what he was doing. Once gaining his trust, Amon was able to convince Kiyoshi to show him his sword skill.

"You are far greater than I had estimated," Amon said, after watching Kiyoshi run through an impressive kata and splitting a tree. Kunai slipped from nowhere out into between his fingers. As Kiyoshi stared, Amon smiled. "Let's spar."

They were both quick, and obviously skilled. They worked up a sweat, all the while never wounding each other.

"That was quite a match," Kiyoshi murmured afterwards, from his resting position. "Do you represent the epitome of ninjutsu?"

"I would not boast that far. But yes, I am good. And so are you." Amon rubbed his fingers over his chin. "That speed of yours is uncanny, that it matches mine. I've never seen a swordsman move that way. If only you had the right build…"

Kiyoshi laughed. "And become a ninja? Where would I be then?" His eyes grew more serious, and he spoke somberly. "Are ninja constantly employed? Do you follow every bid of your contractor?"

Amon stared at him, something he had been doing a lot ever since he met the strange, violet-eyed swordsman. "We are not constantly employed. Mostly we are used for intelligence gathering."

"And you can turn down contracts."

"Yes."

Kiyoshi tilted back and looked skyward. "Perhaps I should have been born into that trade. Something simpler would also do, I suppose, but I want to keep my strength. That and power are the only differences in the world to make largely-spread change."

Amon was quiet for a moment. "I don't understand you, Kiyoshi. What possessed you to wander around like you did? Why would you chose to get by through doing odd jobs for civilians, instead of joining a lord?"

"I will never join a lord again." Kiyoshi murmured. "I make my own choices. I choose this. And I choose to employ my services to the people who are truly in need; the poor. They are defenseless, unlike the daimyo and their bodyguard samurai."

"That's an honorable choice," Amon said.

Kiyoshi took a breath. It was the first time he had been praised for his choice. He could remember all too clearly the hate in his father's eyes for how he had turned so far from his upbringing of serving with unlimited loyalty.

"Thank you."

* * *

They went out together for a drink one night. As they turned into the street where the bar was, they heard scuffling noises in one of the dark alleys. It was a bunch of men, ganging up on a girl. They were loud and had swords, and before Amon had even called out to them, Kiyoshi had grabbed them and threw them away. They stumbled and drew their swords, cursing the samurai in front of them.

The girl stumbled away sobbing to Amon, as Kiyoshi fought them. He yelled as he swung his sword, seeping with power. Blood splattered onto the walls and the street, and Amon, helping the shuddering girl, finally called out.

"Kiyoshi!"

His companion swung around to face him. Amon felt a sudden chill as golden eyes were narrowed at him. The girl felt it too. She suddenly broke away from Amon, and ran off.

Amon and Kiyoshi were left staring at each other.

"You've almost killed them all," Amon said quietly.

The dark figure in front of him shifted, uncertainly. He sheathed his sword, and slowly walked towards Amon. The ninja waited, looking relaxed, but ready. Kiyoshi walked past him, slowly, trudging back the way they came, in the direction of their inn. Amon waited, and then followed.

Kiyoshi went straight to the baths of the inn. When he came back to their room, cleansed of blood, Amon asked him quietly:

"Why are you so angry?"

Kiyoshi knelt by his bedroll, bowing his head.

"I don't like injustice," he muttered. "Things like that…"

His posture and voice told Amon everything. He suddenly knew, or had a good idea of what had happened to Kiyoshi.

"If you want redemption, Kiyoshi," he said, "I know a place where you can find peace. You can curb that temper, and put that sword to good use. Justice isn't killing other men for a single crime."

In front of him, Kiyoshi shuddered. The memory of an execution for stealing rice had resurfaced.

The next morning they left the city, and after several days, Amon brought him to a large monastery.

"A monk?" Kiyoshi asked, in slight disbelief. "Amon- I am a swordsman. I do not belong-"

"That conscience of yours says otherwise," Amon said sternly. His tone grew softer, concerned. "Kiyoshi- you can find peace here. I promise you that. I'll be here, and we'll stay here for a while. You'll see."

Reluctantly, Kiyoshi took up residence in the monastery. He kept his sword locked away in his room, feeling as if a limb had been removed. His hand itched, and when he told him so, Amon handed him a hoe.

"The monks have a garden," he smiled. "It's where all their food come from. Help them out with those muscles of yours."

By the end of the week, Kiyoshi spent much of his time farming, and meditation became comfortable for him. When Amon visited him, he found his violet-eyed friend smiling as he worked the earth.

"If I ever decide to take on another profession," Kiyoshi explained, "I'll become a farmer. The labor is good, and look; I can work more fields than other men and at harvest time, I could feed my neighbors."

Amon laughed, and was glad for his friend. Months passed. At times, Amon left the monastery and traveled, visiting his family back in Kyoto. Each time he returned, he found Kiyoshi more peaceful and reserved. They would walk down to the village and on the rare occasion a crime occurred while they were there, Kiyoshi did not snap, but managed to somehow solve the problem without violence. The change was good, and relieving. By then, Kiyoshi had told Amon about his past, and his family and Toruga.

"I believe they still want to kill me," Kiyoshi had said calmly. "Word comes now and then of Toruga and the Himura family. It is clear my father's ambition is to catch and kill me for shaming him. Either way, if my past comes up with me, I'll try my best not to fight."

Kiyoshi was in the village one day, scheduled to meet Amon, when a slave caravan came in. Kiyoshi could do nothing but watch; it was not illegal, and there were chances, however slim, that they might be sold to good owners. However, the whole scene left distaste in his mouth. He was about to leave when he saw Amon; he had called out to his friend, and then felt eyes upon him.

He turned. There was a girl; a skinny girl with strong eyes. But she suddenly gaped at him, eyes wide with lights dancing in them. The young thing stood there, looking at Kiyoshi- he had never been stared at in such a manner before- and then the spell broke as the slave trader grabbed the girl, and beat her hard on the side with a stick for stopping.

The girl scowled, turned to follow the trader, her eyes and face hardening once more. Kiyoshi could not help but follow, eyes narrowed. Though he could control his temper now, anger still flared inside of him. It pounded in his head, almost not making any sense- all he could feel was an urge to help. He thought:

_What was that wonder and emotion, hidden inside that slave girl? Could it be brought out again? How dare it be locked inside! How dare she be beaten, like a dog!_

Kiyoshi felt his hand clench, and followed the caravan. He knew he could do something; there was money in his pocket; he had the power to change that girl's fate. Knowing that he had that power felt good.

_If there is anyone I can help at the moment, it is her._

Redemption, one step at a time.

"Kiyoshi!" Amon called, but his friend didn't respond. The tall figure he made was easily distinguishable from the crowd. His friend was following the caravan resolutely. Amon sighed, and followed. Kiyoshi was being very stubborn, and spontaneous. Over the numerous occasions, the large swordsman had jumped unhesitatingly into arguments, stopped brawls, and offered food to whichever poor person caught his eye. Now Kiyoshi was caught again, in his neverending determination to help the peasants.

But when the caravan paused again…

and Kiyoshi put his arm protectively around the slave girl's waist…

and when the girl looked up at him with wondering and disbelieving, fixated eyes…

Something was different. Fate had acted, and futures were binding together.

And so Amon trailed them back up to the monastery, violet-eyed Kiyoshi, and the red-haired former slave.


End file.
